Grey to Gold
by targaryenroars
Summary: AU. After Margaery marries Tommen and becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa weds Loras Tyrell and moves to Highgarden. All is peaceful until the Queen visits. Sansa is caught between her love for the new queen and a secret plot to take back the North. Margaery/Sansa.
1. The Proposition

A/N Hello! This is an AU beginning after Joffrey's death and before Margaery's wedding to Tommen. This scene is just setting up Sansa's and Margaery's relationship and is largely based off of a scene from the show in season three. All future chapters will be longer than this. I hope to update soon, but let me know what you think!

"When I was a child, my cousin was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen," Margaery reflected while she walked arm-in-arm with Sansa through the gardens of the Red Keep. "I was so jealous."

"Well, soon she'll be the jealous one when she has to pretend to be happy as you're crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Sansa pointed out, smiling.

"And I will love her jealousy more than anything. Although, I will greatly miss Highgarden. You must visit it someday, Sansa. You would adore it." Margaery flashed her companion a bright smile.

Sansa's pleasant expression fell a little. "I would love to see it. But I don't think the Queen will let me leave King's Landing."

"The Queen Regent, you mean," Margaery corrected her. Her eyes flashed mischievously. "In a few days, I will be queen, and I say you will go to Higharden. Maybe even be the Lady of Highgarden, if you would agree to a marriage with a certain Tyrell." She grinned.

"Do you mean…?" Sansa stopped walking and turned to face Margaery. Her face lit up hopefully.

"Yes, I do." Margaery could barely contain her excitement. She let out a giggle. "You should marry Loras! You would live in Highgarden, far from the capital. And we would be sisters!"

"I couldn't be more overjoyed, Lady Margaery," Sansa replied, smiling widely. Margaery pulled her close for a hug.

"Oh, I'm so excited that you agree, Sansa! Come, we should make formal arrangements. This will be wonderful!" The two girls left the gardens alight with laughter and wedding plans.

Thoughts of Loras filled Sansa's head for the rest of the day. She could think of little but him; smiling at him, marrying him, kissing him... But she couldn't think beyond that point. It felt almost wrong. Whenever she tried to picture herself in bed with him, Margaery's voice whispered in her head in a pitch that was just barely too soft for her to understand. This peculiar phenomenon was pushed to the back of her mind, however, and was replaced with far more important things. She would marry Loras Tyrell. She would finally escape King's Landing.

Petyr Baelish interrupted her thoughts. "Lady Sansa," he greeted her. She hadn't heard him approach the bench she occupied overlooking the Blackwater. Shae trailed behind him with an exasperated expression. Apparently, he hadn't allowed her to announce his presence. "May we speak alone?" He asked.

Sansa glanced at Shae and nodded. The handmaiden glared at her, but turned away and returned to a bench several feet away. "Please join me, Lord Baelish. Have you heard the news? I'm to be wed to Loras Tyrell." Sansa couldn't help but smile.

Petyr returned her smile with a calculated one of his own. "I have, my lady. It's one of the reasons why I am here. You remember how I told you recently that there are still those loyal to the Starks in the North?"

The North remembers, Sansa thought to herself. She nodded.

"Very good," he continued. "There is an idea that I have in mind. You cannot repeat it out loud. But the Starks belong in the North and you, my lady, are a Stark. There are hundreds who would support you if you were to claim the North as your own." He quieted and watched her warily.

Sansa's cheeks paled. It was a moment before she managed to find her voice. "Lord Baelish, that's... Treason." The word felt strange on her tongue. It was a word Joffrey used against her father when she first came to King's Landing. It was the word he used for her brother Robb when he imprisoned her here. And it was a word that was still whispered behind her back. Maybe she should finally give into its tempting call.

Petyr leaned forward and cupped her cheek in his hand. In his eyes was pity, but Sansa could see a glint of greed hidden in his expression. "It's a powerful idea, Lady Sansa. You don't need to make a decision quite yet. Marry Loras, relax in Highgarden, but keep in mind that you could someday be Queen in the North."


	2. The First Wedding

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

 **A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update! Thank you so much to all of you who favorited and followed. I hope to update again soon! In this version of the story, Joffrey will live through his wedding to Margaery Tyrell.**

Nobody sat still in the Red Keep that day. After all, the royal wedding was being held that evening. Not even Sansa was kept out of the madness. Margaery had called her to her chambers at seven o'clock that morning to help her prepare.

Now the soon-to-be queen stood in front of Sansa with an expression that practically glowed. Her hair was curled perfectly and had been elegantly twisted into a southern style. She had rouge on her cheeks and lips. Next to the red, her skin seemed like porcelain, though it wasn't quite as pale as Sansa's. And the dress… Gods, Sansa was so jealous of that dress. On the front, a pattern of thorns was woven over the stomach and breasts, but the back of the skirt melted into a train of silver roses. When wearing it, Sansa could've sworn that Margaery was the incarnation of the Maiden.

"What do you think?" Margaery asked eagerly. She and her handmaidens had only just finished tweaking her appearance.

"You're perfect," Sansa told her softly.

"Really?" The bride sighed. "Oh, thank heavens. I was worried they might have had the measurements wrong. What do you think of the train?"

"Beautiful," Sansa assured her. "Joffrey will be so happy, and your cousin will be the most jealous person in all the Seven Kingdoms."

That comment earned a tinkling laugh from the young Tyrell. "Now, that's the true goal in all this. Inspiring jealousy."

The door opened and both girls turned their attention to the servant who entered. "Only an hour until the wedding, Lady Margaery," the girl, one of her handmaidens, informed her. "The High Septon wishes you to be outside the Throne Room in half an hour so that you can take your place in the wedding procession." She curtsied and left once dismissed.

Sansa turned to Margaery. "I suppose I should leave you. I need to find my seat in the Throne Room anyway."

"I wish we had more time together, Sansa. It's a shame you're leaving for Highgarden tomorrow. And to think, I'll miss your wedding!" Margaery lamented.

"But you'll visit soon?" Sansa asked hopefully.

"As soon as I can." Margaery found Sansa's hands and squeezed them, smiling. "The next time we speak, we will both be married."

"And you will be Queen." Sansa returned Margaery's warm expression. She leaned forward to place a kiss the future queen's rouged cheek. "Good luck, Lady Margaery. Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again," Margaery replied softly, not leaning away. Their hands lingered for a moment, and then Sansa turned away to leave.

She felt a strange sort of emptiness as she walked down the corridors that led to the throne toom. Maybe it was jealously. Maybe it was anticipation for her own wedding, which was fast approaching. She would be the Lady of Highgarden within seven days, after all. Whatever the feeling was, it persisted, even when she took her place in the throne room among the other highborn wedding guests.

Somewhere above the main floor, a troupe of musicians struck up a formal tune. The music wafted through the room pleasantly as the wedding procession began to march from the doors and down the long red carpet that led to the altar. Margaery's handmaidens and Joffrey's most trusted knights split off onto opposite sides of the High Septon, who waited patiently in the front and center of the room. Finally, Joffrey entered. Several guests clapped while he strolled toward the altar and took his place in front of the High Sparrow. Then all went quiet as Margaery entered.

She captured the room with her beauty. Several guests gasped in shock and envy as she swept down the center of the throne room to her fiancé. When she climbed the steps to the altar, her train of silver roses almost shimmered. Joffrey met her halfway to the High Sparrow and they linked arms, completing the short walk together.

At the top of the steps, Joffrey removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. The woman standing next to Sansa sighed; Sansa wondered if it was out of joy or envy. The northern girl herself was filling with a strange spiteful feeling, one she couldn't really explain. For some reason, she wished she were standing up there next to Margaery.

The High Septon interrupted her thoughts. "Let it be known," he began, tying a piece of woven fabric around the couple's joined hands, "that Margaery of House Tyrell and Joffrey of the houses Lannister and Baratheon are one heart, flesh, one soul." His voice twined harmoniously with those of the choir standing high up in the throne room. Sansa watched Margaery's gaze slide to her fiancé. "Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

Joffrey turned to face the wedding guests. "With this kiss, I pledge my love." He cupped Margaery's cheek and leaned toward her, capturing her lips with his in a lingering yet innocent embrace. It wasn't until they had pulled apart that Sansa realized she was clenching her jaw in repulsion. She worried that Joffrey would hurt Margaery somehow. The fate that almost befell her shouldn't fall on the beautiful shoulders of the Tyrell Queen.

Realizing that the rest of the guests were clapping, Sansa joined in. "We have a new queen," she murmured to Tyrion.

"Better her than you," he muttered back. Sansa wondered what Tyrion Lannister would think of Baelish's plan to make her the Queen in the North. She wondered what Margaery would think. What Joffrey would think. For some reason, the thought of deposing Joffrey and sitting in the Iron Throne with Margaery at her side flitted through her head. Sansa shook it away.

The newlyweds walked slowly down the aisle in the center of the room, making their way to the great doors to begin their wedding feast. For a fleeting moment, Margaery caught her gaze. Sansa's heart sped up. Then the Queen looked away and the moment was over.

Guests began filtering out of the throne room once the royal couple left. Sansa followed mindlessly, trying push thoughts of treason from her mind. The words "Queen in the North" occupied her mind throughout the whole wedding feast. She snuck glances at Margaery when she could and hardly even noticed when Loras took her hand. Sansa found the feast dull without the new queen by her side.

"My lady. Lady Sansa…?" Loras was looking at her.

"Hm? Oh, sorry, my lord. What were you saying?"

"I would be honor to escort you back to your chambers. We will have a long journey tomorrow."

"Of course, Loras." Sansa smiled gratefully and stood as he linked his arm with hers. The sun was setting over the Blackwater behind them, but the festivities were still continuing. The bedding ceremony would be soon. Sansa wished she could stay, but for some reason the bedding ceremony made her sick. Besides, she couldn't turn down Loras.

He led her away from the high table and toward the exit. Just before they left the area of the gardens where the feast was being held, Sansa looked back. Margaery was looking at her. Sansa offered a weak smile, wishing she could turn back and join the queen. But she didn't. She turned forward once more and left the party behind.

Loras struck up a polite conversation. "Are you prepared to travel tomorrow, Lady Sansa? I've sent word ahead to Highgarden for the servants to prepare the most luxurious rooms. You'll be lady of the house, after all. Our wedding will be magnificent – I've ordered them to release doves when we give our vows."

"It all sounds beautiful, Loras. That's very kind of you. I really can't wait to arrive there, I've heard so many amazing things about your home."

"I hope you'll enjoy your time there. After all, you'll live there for the rest of your life." His voice took on a sharper edge and Sansa fell silent for a moment. She thanked the gods that they were close to her rooms.

"Thank you for walking me back, Loras." She smiled. "I look forward to travelling with you tomorrow."

"As do I." They stopped outside her door. Loras grimaced, as did Sansa. They never sang about such awkwardness in the songs she was obsessed with as a child. "Goodnight, Lady Sansa." Loras placed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, Loras," Sansa replied. She curtsied, then rose and opened the door to her chambers. He nodded to her before she closed it once more.

A handmaiden was already in the room waiting for her. Sansa dismissed the girl and disrobed alone. She submerged herself in a bath which the servant had already drawn and spent a long period of time resting in the water. She pretended not to hear the cheers of the bedding ceremony taking place elsewhere in the keep.

When the water grew cold, Sansa rose, dried, and dressed in sleeping silks. She lay in bed for hours. What would happen to her if she accepted Baelish's proposition and became a traitor to the king? Could she even win a war? Could she sit on the iron throne and rule a kingdom? Worrisome thoughts melted into dreams of direwolves, the iron throne, and a certain smirking queen.


	3. The Second Wedding

**Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs solely to George R. R. Martin.**

 **A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update! School got really intense for a while. Hopefully I'll be able to post more often now. So of course this is an AU so in this story, Willas Tyrell died during Robert's Rebellion and Mace was ambushed and killed during the War of Five Kings. Loras is now Lord of Highgarden. Sansa's marriage to Tyrion never occurred.**

The air was sweet with the smell of roses. Sansa stepped out of the carriage that had carried her down the Roseroad, relieved to finally be rid of its confinement. Behind her was the wall that encircled the innermost quarter of the city. Before her, the Tree of Tyrell rose over the street. Behind it was the Tyrell Keep, a tall white structure that easily commanded respect. She knew that a beautiful godswood was hidden behind the castle. Flowers of all varieties bloomed in the warm southern sunlight. Altogether, Highgarden was truly breathtaking.

Loras approached from the horse he had rode into the city. "Is Highgarden to your liking, my lady?" He asked her. He smiled proudly. Sansa had to admire the respect he had for his home.

"It's beautiful, Loras. I look forward to living here." She would miss the cold northern winds of Winterfell every second she spent in this city. Every second here would reinforce her desperate wish to return home.

"Think, Lady Sansa, you will be Lady of Highgarden in two weeks." He sighed and Sansa watched doubt flit across his face. She had the same feeling about their wedding, but would never admit it aloud. Their wedding was sanctioned by the King, after all. To reject Loras would be offensive to the crown. "Let me walk you to your chambers. Or would you rather see the city?"

"It's been a long journey, my lord. I would love to see the city tomorrow." She smiled gently, wanting nothing more at that moment to take a warm bath.

"Of course." He offered her his arm, which she took. They began walking up a long road that led to the great hall. After a few steps taken in silence, Loras fell into a speech about the history of House Tyrell, as he was wont to do. "Highgarden was supposedly built by House Gardener, but the Tyrells earned our seat here when we helped Aegon the Conqueror take control of the city." Sansa nodded, though she remembered Maester Luwin telling the story quite differently. "Since Aegon's time, we've ruled here, quite successfully if I say so myself. We've bred a hundred new kinds of roses. Our wedding will be held in the rose gardens, actually. You'll love them. I seem to remember you spent much of your time at King's Landing in the gardens – you'll find ours much more brilliant, my lady."

"I can't wait to see them," Sansa assured him, though she was disappointed that they would not be wed in the godswood. "I've heard endless compliments spoken of the Tyrell flowers."

"With good reason. We own the most beautiful lands in Westeros. Did you see the flower gardens surrounding the city when we entered?"

"I did, my lord. I've never seen so many flowers." Sansa really couldn't care less about the flowers. She wished Loras would shut up about them.

He smiled. "I always know I'm home when I see those flowers."

As they approached the Great Hall, two guards opened a set of large dark doors. Inside, the hall was well-lit. The walls were as white as the exterior of the keep and covered in ornate golden decorations that often curved together to form roses. A long table painted Tyrell green stretched the length of the hall in the middle. Each wall held several door-like windows which could be opened and allowed the inhabitants of the hall to step out into luxuriant gardens. The golden afternoon light fell in window-shaped patterns on the wooden floor.

"This is my favorite time of day," Loras commented as he walked the length of the hall with Sansa still on his arm. "I hope you don't mind getting married at this time."

"No, of course not. Highgarden looks beautiful in this light."

Loras, pleased with her answer, continued on a spiel about the wedding and Highgarden and its people. Sansa stopped paying attention to him, simply nodding whenever he took a pause. She focused her attention on their surroundings: at the back of the hall, a set of servants opened another tall pair of doors, which opened into a meeting room. Books lined the walls, occasionally interrupted by windows here and there. Tables and chairs painted with green and gold were scattered through the room.

Loras steered her toward a sweeping spiral staircase in the back corner. Together they climbed it up to the third level of the keep.

"This is where the Tyrells have slept for hundreds of years. For now, you'll be staying in the Twin Towers, but when we marry, you'll have a room in the Lord's Tower." He nodded toward an elegant door, which Sansa assumed led to the Lord's Tower. Instead of going through it, he took her through a narrow hallway which led to a smaller room. A servant was waiting at the door.

"Thank you for walking me to my room, Loras. I look forward to seeing the city tomorrow," Sansa offered with a somewhat strained smile.

"And I as well, Lady Sansa. Sleep well." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers gently. Sansa curtsied, then turned away and entered her temporary room. The servant, a girl maybe two years her junior, curtsied to her and opened the door.

"My name is Malina. I've already drawn a bath, m'lady," the girl said. "Would you like some help undressing?"

"Yes, thank you." Sansa let the girl unbutton her dress and underskirts and fold them over a nearby chair. Sansa looked around the room while she stepped into the bath; a bed rested beneath a large window nearly as long as the wall it was placed in. The bath was set in the corner behind a shade. Across from the bed, a large painting of a grove of trees overlooked a vanity. Everything was either white, gold, or green. The sigil of House Tyrell stood proudly over the door.

"They brought your wedding dress in this morning, m'lady," Malina said cheerfully. "It's in the wardrobe. Would you like to see it?"

Sansa nodded and the girl went to the wardrobe. She pulled out a long gown. Sansa let out a small sound of amazement – the dress was more beautiful than she could have imagined. Although she had grown to dread the approaching wedding, the gown took her breath away.

The skirts and bodice were of a soft white fabric. A delicate pattern of gold roses was stitched over the waist and dipped down at the center of the bodice. The long sleeves reflected the style of northern dresses. Attached at the neck by a brooch of a howling wolf with roses in its fur was a shawl-like cape of sheer silver fabric which draped over the back of the dress and trailed behind it. It perfectly entangled the elements of House Stark and House Tyrell.

"It's beautiful," Sansa said after a moment.

"I'm sure the seamstresses'll be happy to hear you like it, m'lady." She placed the dress carefully back in its place in the wardrobe. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. I can finish bathing on my own. Thank you." Sansa dismissed the girl and lay back in her bath.

The rest of the night passed without her paying much attention to her actions. She dried herself, dressed in sleeping silks, and settled beneath the blankets of her temporary bed, all while missing Winterfell but thanking the Old Gods that she was no longer in King's Landing.

Two weeks passed with surprising speed. She toured the city with Loras just after arriving. After that, she spent time exploring Highgarden and enduring awkward dinners with her fiancé. Sansa met and befriended her personal guard, Randyl Caswell, as well as a few members of houses sworn to the Tyrells. For the most part, she kept to herself. It wasn't long before she found herself in bed the morning of her wedding day.

"Good morning, m'lady," Malina said cheerfully. She moved away from the curtains she had just pulled open and motioned to a tray she had brought. "I brought you breakfast. Wasn't sure what you'd like so I had the cooks make a bunch of things. There's some eggs, juice, bacon, stuff like that. Oh, and they brought your wedding dress in while you were sleeping. It's in the wardrobe. Would you like to see it?"

Sansa nodded and the girl went to the wardrobe. She pulled out a long gown. Sansa let out a small "oh" of approval – the dress was more beautiful than she could have imagined. Although she had grown to dread the approaching wedding, the gown took her breath away.

The skirts and bodice were of a soft white fabric. A delicate pattern of gold roses was stitched over the waist and dipped down at the center of the bodice. The long sleeves reflected the style of northern dresses. Attached at the neck by a brooch of a howling wolf with roses in its fur was a shawl-like cape of sheer silver fabric which draped over the back of the dress and trailed behind it. It perfectly entangled the elements of House Stark and House Tyrell.

"It's beautiful," Sansa said after a moment.

"I'm sure the seamstresses'll be happy to hear you like it, m'lady." She placed the dress carefully back in its place in the wardrobe. "You ought to get up, though, there's lots to do today."

Sansa groaned. It was too early. With much effort, she pushed the blankets away from herself and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The rest of the morning was a blur – she ate while Malina chatted, she dressed while Malina chatted, and she waited for the afternoon light to shine through the window while Malina chatted. It seemed the servant would never shut up. All the while, Sansa was numb, thinking of how the rest of her life would be: she would marry Loras and bear a few of his children. Occasionally they might host political events and of course, there would always be minor tourneys, but for the most part, she would be locked in this beautiful palace which was starting to feel more and more like a prison.

It could be worse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Malina, who paused from a cheerful speech about how normally there would be a wedding breakfast for the bride but the Tyrells had forgone the custom seeing as all of Sansa's female relatives "weren't present," as the servant put it, rose with a wide smile and opened the door to admit a tall guard in a green cloak.

"Lady Sansa," Ser Randyl greeted her with a solemn nod. "It is time for the ceremony."

She nodded in return and took his arm. As if pulling out of a trance and remembering to look in the mirror, she twisted slightly to glance in the tall looking glass on the other side of the room. She was stunned by how she appeared. If her hair were down, she could be her mother. A servant had twisted it into an elegant southern style that was pleasing to the eye. The dress complemented her figure better than any she had ever worn.

Ser Randyl's hand on her arm reminded her that they had to go. "You look beautiful, Lady Sansa," he told her in a fatherly way, catching the way she looked at herself. She gave him a thankful smile and turned back toward the doorway.

"Good luck, m'lady. I'll see you in the morning," Malina pipped from behind them as they left the room.

Caswell led her through the interior of the keep and down the stairs into the main hall, then out of the castle. The path to the rose gardens was lined with golden petals. A raised platform of marble surrounded by statues of the Seven stood at the center of the gardens. Elegant chairs were arranged around the platform, and Loras waited upon it with a septon. He smiled when he caught sight of her. She smiled back.

A small choir sang while she approached. Ser Randyl released her arm at the edge of the platform and presented her to the septon and the groom. Sansa climbed two shallow steps to reach Loras' side. They joined hands and the septon began a speech. Sansa lost herself in the endless prayers and vows of the Faith of the Seven. She spoke when told to do so but remained lost in thought for most of the ceremony.

Loras interrupted her thoughts. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," he stated loudly for the crowd to hear. Leaning in, he placed a tense, formal kiss on her lips, drawing back quickly. The couple turned toward their applauding guests. Loras glanced at Sansa and offered her a warm smile, which she returned with polite nod. He took her arm and led her to the hall where they would hold their wedding feast.

The sound of the feast slowly faded the further Sansa walked. She thanked the Old Gods for letting her slip away unnoticed. Most of the servants were occupied with the feast, leaving the halls empty and quiet. Bright moonlight slid through the tall, narrow windows, drawing her toward a set of glass doors that led to the godswood. Finally, she found the complete silence she was searching for in the twisted oaks.

Gods, how she missed the North. The flowers of the Reach were beautiful, but they could never compare to the sparkling snows that blanketed Winterfell during most of the year. The only noise at night in the North was the harsh wind. Here, insects sang their high-tuned songs from the trees and mice rustled in the bushes when she walked by. Still, it was better than the feast.

She wandered through the godswood for quite a while, dreading the return she would eventually be forced to make. She wondered if Loras would be waiting for her to join him in their wedding bed. Sighing, Sansa seated herself on a bench beneath a tree and closed her eyes, tipping her head back as she pictured Winterfell. If only she were home.

"My, you look stunning," a familiar voice murmured.

Sansa's heart fluttered. Her eyes flew open and she stood, startled. The willowy figure of Margaery Tyrell was approaching her from the direction of the castle. She wore her usual smirk, but there was a curious glimmer in her eyes.

"Your Grace," Sansa greeted her softly. "Why are you here?"

Margaery's smirk deepened. "My dear Sansa, I couldn't miss the bride on her wedding night."


	4. Wedding Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones.**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this story, Sansa is eighteen and Margaery is nineteen. This is before Sansa gains more strength and confidence, it's more of how she acted in King's Landing. Also, sorry about the mistakes in the last chapter, I was editing it and I never checked it before posting. I'll fix it someday. I know this chapter is soooo late, and honestly I don't really have much of an excuse. Writing smut scared me. Please don't judge me too harshly, I've never written anything like this before. If smut offends you, skip this chapter, or skip the end of the chapter.**

Margaery laughed at the confusion etched into Sansa's expression. "I took a small traveling party from King's Landing to be here after the wedding. After all, I had to congratulate my brother on marrying such a beautiful bride. The journey didn't take as long as I anticipated."

Sansa looked her over. The queen was, indeed, wearing a traveling cloak and seemed somewhat worn out. "You came straight here?" She asked. "What about the feast?"

"Only drunk men remain at feasts this late," she giggled. "Come, I am exhausted from my travels. Walk me to the King's Tower." Her tone took on a teasing aspect. "Or would you rather stay in the Godswood?"

Sansa resisted the urge to question Margaery further. Instead, she let the woman take her arm and they walked through the gardens with nothing but the sound of the late summer insects and a song Margaery hummed softly to accompany them. They passed the scenes from the wedding – the rows of chairs still arranged around the podium, flower petals scattered on the grass, banners fluttering lightly in the soft breeze. For a fleeting second Sansa pictured a different Tyrell standing next to her, vowing to love her forever.

They skirted around the long yellow patches of light falling from the tall windows of the castle. Instead, Margaery led them to a smaller door at the edge of a tower. A guard let them in without question when Margaery gave him her infamous demure smile. From there, they climbed a set of spiraling stairs so tall that Sansa was afraid she would begin breathing heavily in an unflattering manner. Finally, they reached a landing that Margaery seemed to know. Soon they were back in a hallway familiar to Sansa. It was the corridor that had branched off between the guest tower and the King's Tower. Only this time, a different Tyrell led her in a different direction.

"Did my brother show you the King's Tower?" Margaery asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "I'm sure he didn't, it wouldn't be proper. He's always such a gentleman to the ladies. With the men, not so much." She giggled.

"Won't he be expecting me?" Sansa asked timidly. She couldn't bare to call Loras her husband.

"It's the King's Tower, isn't it?" Margaery smirked. "The guards know that the Queen is here. Loras will find another bed tonight. Believe me, my dear Sansa, he will wait to consummate this marriage." She pushed open the heavy door leading into the tower. A servant knelt as they entered. She had apparently known about Margaery's arrival and prepared a bath while the girls spoke in the gardens. Margaery excused the servant while Sansa hung back.

The door clicked shut and suddenly the room was silent. The King's Tower was far from the dining hall, meaning no sounds of the feast made their way into the peaceful room. There was only soft firelight illuminating the chamber. In the silence, Sansa found herself wandering around the room, taking it in, just to have something to do. The main section consisted of extensive bookcases lining the circular room and interrupted by occasional windows and a couple fireplaces. A round table rested in the center. On the north end of the circle, the bookcases parted and a small step led up to another circular chamber with a bed against the north wall. Windows lined the room in a semicircle sliding from the west side to the east. A bathtub rested in the center of the room.

"Are you tired?" Margaery murmured to Sansa's right, causing her to jump. She'd almost forgotten she was in the presence of the Queen. Margaery undid the clasps keeping her travelling cloak on her shoulders and let it slide onto the floor, regarding Sansa with an unfamiliar glint in her eye.

"A little, your grace," Sansa told her, watching the cloak settle on the floor. "It's been a long day."

"Hmm, yes," Margaery said thoughtfully. She turned away from Sansa and faced a desk topped with a mirror. "Sansa, could you help me undo this necklace?"

"Of course." The redhead moved to stand behind her queen and raised her fingers to unclasp a necklace bearing the Tyrell rose. She glanced up and Margaery's gaze caught hers in the mirror.

"I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look in your wedding dress," Margaery told her softly. She dropped her eyes to look over their reflections in the mirror, her own travelling dress paling in comparison to Sansa's gown.

"Thank you, your grace."

"Could you remove the pins from my hair?"

Sansa did so silently. She slowly removed the pins, watching Margaery's hair tumble free with a strange feeling that wasn't quite jealousy. If she had known better, she would have recognized it as longing.

Margaery captured Sansa's gaze again. She murmured, "It would be a shame if no one loved a bride on her wedding night,"

This confused Sansa. "You said your brother would find another bed."

"I never said the husband had to love the bride." She didn't make Sansa respond. Instead, she moved so that Sansa was closer to the mirror and she stood behind the bride. Margaery's hands found one of Sansa's and she lifted it, slowly removing the rings that adorned the Stark girl's fingers, then her glove, keeping Sansa's gaze the whole time. Sansa didn't falter. She only watched.

Carefully, to test the waters, Margaery brought Sansa's hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles. Sansa didn't stop her.

Margaery slid her fingers up Sansa's right arm, across her shoulders, and down her left arm. She repeated the process with her left hand. Still, Sansa didn't protest.

The Queen's fingers found the clasp to the elegant Stark necklace resting on Sansa's collarbones. She undid the clasp and placed the necklace on a nearby table. She then gingerly kissed the back of Sansa's neck. Sansa tipped her head, closing her eyes and lifting her lips into a gentle smile.

Margaery lifted her gaze and pulled away from Sansa's skin to find that her efforts had elicited a reward in the form of pleasure. Sansa's eyes opened in response to the absence of lips on her skin and the smile melted away.

"Did I do something?" She asked, worried.

"Yes, but the right thing." Margaery smirked at her. She reached behind herself and undid the ties of her dress. It slid to the floor next to her cloak.

Sansa's eyes widened. She couldn't stop herself from turning to get a better view of the beauty in front of her. The Queen's lips were painted into a confident smirk and her head was tipped forward slightly, emphasizing the lust in her eyes. Her hair, somewhat knotted from being tied up for travel, fell over her shoulders, barely covering her breasts. Her legs were long and shapely. Sansa didn't have any experience with other women, but even so, she knew Margaery was a rare beauty.

"Does this please you?" The Queen asked.

"Yes, your grace, but I…" Sansa stammered slightly, lost for words. "I never…"

"If you aren't comfortable, I won't ask you to continue. But I want this, Sansa. I want you." Her words encouraged Sansa. As she spoke, the Queen stepped closer to her would-be lover and gently rested her hands on each of her shoulders. She placed light kisses on one cheek, then the other. Then her lips found Sansa's and captured them in delicate kiss. When Sansa responded, she deepened the embrace. Both girls were short of breath when Margaery pulled back ever so slightly.

Margaery captured Sansa's gaze in hers. Sansa found herself becoming lost in the Queen's light brown eyes, those eyes that were holding her own with such intensity.

"May I remove your dress?" Margaery whispered. Sansa took a deep breath and nodded.

With careful movements of her thin fingers, Margaery untied the laces that held the wedding dress to Sansa's chest and watched the fabric fall to the floor eagerly. Sansa stepped out of the pool of satin while Margaery knelt to pick it up and laid it gently on the nearest chair. She turned back to Sansa, now dressed only in her smallclothes.

"May I?" Margaery asked again, motioning toward the slip that covered Sansa's slim frame.

"Yes."

The Queen pulled this small nuisance off Sansa's shoulders and let it fall to the floor with less care than she gave to the wedding gown. She stepped back to admire her lover's beauty.

Sansa's skin was still snowy white despite the amount of time she'd spent in the south. She was a northern beauty disguised as a Tully. Her famous red hair rested more easily on her shoulders than Margaery's did, having been groomed to perfection before being pinned up in the style of her southern wedding. Her bright blue eyes and high cheekbones highlighted the elegance that Margaery was sure Sansa had had since she was young. Though her eyes held a subtle hint of worry, she seemed hopeful for an intimate encounter with the young queen.

Margaery's eyes travelled downward and took in Sansa's body with lustful appreciation. The new Lady Tyrell's body was nearly absent of the curves the Queen was known for but her straight frame was beautiful nonetheless. Her snowy white skin gave way to a patch of dark red hair between her legs. Yes, she was definitely a northern beauty. Margaery hummed her approval.

"Am I alright, your grace?" Sansa asked timidly.

"More than so, my dear." With slow, tantalizing steps, Margaery closed the space between them and took each of Sansa's hands in hers. "Would you like to bathe with me, my lady?"

When Sansa gave her consent, Margaery led her to the bath. She let Sansa enter first. The redhead reclined in the water, tense at first, then relaxing when her still-dry queen leaned over her and whispered a command to relax in her ear. Sansa's eyes slid shut. She felt the water ripple when the Queen entered the bath. She felt the Queen's fingers running over her skin, barely touching it, as she moved her hand from the base of her neck. She felt the Queen's lips on the skin of her jaw. She felt the Queen's fingers circle her nipples. She felt the Queen's fingers trace lazy patterns across her stomach. She felt the Queen's fingers brush over her inner thighs. She felt the Queen's fingers slide between her legs and enter her there.

"Oh," Sansa breathed. She wasn't sure if it was a sound of pain or pleasure. Perhaps both. Nothing had ever been _there_ before.

Margaery distracted her with a kiss. "Relax, Sansa," she murmured against Sansa's lips as two of her fingers moved slowly inside her. "Listen to my voice. You are beautiful, you know. So beautiful." Her fingers continued to move as she spoke. "Some girls would kill for your hair. You'd best be careful or the cook at Highgarden will cut it off when you're not looking. She's always complained about wanting hair like yours." This earned a laugh from Sansa. Well, that and Margaery's efforts between her legs, which were feeling better and better by the moment.

"And your eyes. I've never seen such eyes. Gods, you must have been blessed by the Maiden to earn those." Sighs were escaping Sansa's lips now. The combined sensations of Margaery's sweet breaths in her ear and her skilled fingers between her legs were overwhelming her. "I've only ever seen their color matched when I visited Dorne as a girl." Her fingers quickened their pace and Margaery's other hand found the sensitive nub above Sansa's entrance. Sansa moaned, barely realizing she was creating the noise. "There were pools with aqua tiles in the Old Palace of Sandstone with that beautiful color. Even so, your eyes are more dazzling than those pools will ever be."

The growing pleasure deep in her belly was coming to a peak. The warmth and scents of the bathwater, the rippling of the water over her skin with the movement of Margaery's arms, the magic Margaery was doing between her legs, Margaery's lips blessing her skin with kisses. She cried out loudly and bucked her hips as she climaxed. Margaery laughed, kissing her lips while pleasure washed over her body and slowly ebbed.

"That is what a wedding night is meant to be," the Queen murmured. She stood and helped her lover out of the bath. Gently, she dried Sansa with cloths. Sansa was exhausted from the events of the day. She hardly thought about returning the favor and pleasuring the Queen. Not that Margaery minded. She was tired too, and this was Sansa's night. The bride was barely suppressing a yawn, she could tell, so once she was dry Margaery led her to the bed and pulled the sheets aside. Sansa gratefully fell into their warmth and let her limbs become entangled with Margaery's when the Queen joined her. The redhead was soon asleep.

Margaery only wished her own wedding night had gone as well.


End file.
